


oh! lonesome me

by havisham



Category: Original Work
Genre: Colonialism, Horror, M/M, POV First Person, Walks In The Woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:05:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: They found a leather-bond volume tucked into a hollow of a tree, the writing barely legible and the story inside -- unbelievable. But there was indeed a George Torcy, who disappeared almost a hundred and fifty years ago, along with expedition led by Captain Harvey. All the rest of it -- are surely lies.





	oh! lonesome me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sath/gifts).



> Dear Sath -- thank you for being a friend.

I’ve no time. The thing that stalks me grows closer with every breath, its wet maw itching for my flesh. In truth, I cannot blame it so much -- I am the freshest meat there is to be found here. All the rest are dead and rotting -- even those I wished were not so. If I were not a man and a Christian, perhaps the creature’s longing would feel even more familiar to me. 

The expedition started off badly. The purpose was to find the fabled Northwest Passage, on paper, but there was no serious attempt to do so. Rumors had it that Captain Harvey had a treasure map that showed the way to some El Dorado of the North, a city of ivory and gold that was hidden in the woods far beyond the grasp of the French and British both. 

But rumors of hidden treasure was not enough -- Harvey could not get the financial backing to make a proper go of it, but insisted on pressing on anyway. He recruited some interested newspapers to follow our journey in exchange for some badly needed funds. We were to send dispatches from across the ocean and from the port upon arrival. Then, a trio of doves were to be our messengers to the outside world. 

The doves, Hector, Helen and Andromache, were eaten very early into the journey. I mourn them still. 

With little money and more than enough promises, Harvey had to find a crew wherever he could -- not just from clubs for gentlemen explorers, but from jails and poor-houses of our glorious island nation. I myself came from no place like that. By profession, I am a sailor. The expedition had had a rough sea-crossing and some of the crew were already too ill to continue. I was picked by my ship captain as a likely replacement, being young, in good health and little in the way of personal attachments. 

I was paid handsomely for my efforts, but subsequent events seemed to punish me for my greed. I should have never left the sea. My bones belonged in the bottom of the ocean, perhaps, but not here, in this desolate place. 

The expedition members were, as I said, a disparate bunch. Along with Captain Harvey was Lieutenant Olivier, a deeply inspiring man who had, in a former life, been a darling of the military establishment. But, alas, scandal found him, and he was tossed out of the army without a pension. He saw this expedition as a way to regain his lost honor. In that, he was a foolish man, but I held him high regard. 

The rest of said officers, I cannot say that I did. Doctor Fry was a fraud as any medical man might be, but he was generous with his opium and found favor with the men -- until it ran out. Lothbrok was our resident scholar, having been thrown out of his college at Oxford just last year for all manner of vices. He once accused me of being a horrendous gossip, but I only write what I myself have observed, or else mention it as rumor. Tobias was the expedition secretary. I did not know him well, though he seemed a quiet soul. 

The rest of the group was balanced out by working men such as myself, hoping to see the bonus that Harvey promised them. Of the others, only Private Marsh, Lieutenant Olivier’s former aide, stood out for his quick wit and ready smile. 

The expedition started well and made quick process into the interior of the country. It was vast, unexplored wilderness -- or at least that was what we believed, as we were unable and unwilling to speak much to the natives that lived there. The Crown, officially, owned all of this vastness, from the port where we had disembarked, across the dark, tree-filled country, to the sea beyond -- if there _was_ a sea beyond. 

I cannot say when the killings began.

I know it started when we were far away from civilization or any native settlements of any kind. The deep woods seemed to go on forever, with nothing to break up the lines of trees save cold, rock-lined lakes -- pockets of water that had been gouged from the bedrock. 

I remember first the awful stench of blood upon waking up. It was coming from Lothbrok’s tent, which had been slashed open for the world to see. Outside the tumbled sketchbook, filled with lewd drawings, there was nothing there save the bloody trail that started from Lothbrok’s bedroll and led to the woods. 

In the somber silence that followed this grisly discovery, our noble leader, Captain Harvey cleared his throat and said, “Well, it could be that Lothbrok left of his own accord. Never mind. Torcy, make a note.” 

Torcy is my name, by the way. 

I had been forced to take up the role as this expedition’s secretary had disappeared one night in a fit of madness. Perhaps Tobias found civilization or some friendly native tribe and lived the remainder of his life in peace. Judging from the screams he emitted as he crashed into the underbrush, however, it seemed unlikely. 

But as we all last saw Tobias alive, he was not counted as the first casualty. 

The next to die was the supercilious Doctor Fry, who saw something flying out of the wood to snatch him. He told me that it would come for him and to be ready. I had little idea what I was to do about it. Doctor Fry was snatched up, in the exact manner he dreaded and never seen again. 

The expedition started off with thirty men to begin with, but over four month journey, that number whittled down to just three -- Captain Harvey, myself, and Lieutenant Olivier. If Captain Harvey was a venal and stupid man, Lieutenant Olivier was his exact opposite. Every death of a comrade weighed on his soul, but he earnestly sought the end of this journey, to some fair point where the lives of all these men (and one woman who had masqueraded as a man -- poor Private Marsh, her death was quite nearly the saddest I’d ever seen) -- would seem worth it. 

Both Captain Harvey and Lieutenant Olivier were, of course, completely mad at this point, but one could hardly blame them for it. 

I did not mark how Captain Harvey died. No doubt, that would be the question those who came after will ask -- what happened to Captain Harvey, this madman, this fool, who had dragged us across a hostile continent to our horrible deaths. I think he was ill to his stomach and did not get better. The creatures did not consume his flesh like they had done for all of the others. Perhaps he was too rotten even for them. 

Olivier and I left it behind in our struggles onward, as the snow began to pile up on the trees. 

Ah, but what about the creatures? You may well ask! They are numerous and fast, and active among the shadow during the day and having free reign during the night. The little devils fear firelight, but only the hottest and strongest blaze. You cannot see them clearly -- they are always darting this way and that, in the corner of your eyes. 

To me, they seemed child-sized and shaped like that too. Lieutenant Olivier said they seemed more bear-like to him, if a bear would stay on his hind legs at all times and be nimble about it too. 

It matters not. The creatures will not suffer strangers in their wood. They are most capable of tearing out a man’s throat -- or whisking him into nothingness, like poor Doctor Fry -- as anything. 

There was now only Lieutenant Olivier and me now. He took me aside and told me, in genuine expressions of sincerity, that it would be best if I let the creatures feast on him while trying to make one last, desperate break for freedom. 

My heart trembled in my chest at such nobility and self-sacrifice. I had half a mind to refuse him when the creatures attacked us both, rendering the discussion moot. 

Afterwards, I found my lieutenant still living, though surrounded by piles of unimaginable gore. I felt faint, but I grasped his hand and brought it to my lips. Our eyes met and I wanted to say the thing that had weighted so much on my chest. 

“Torcy -- no, George,” said my gallant lieutenant, “you see that it is too late for me.” 

“I will stay with you until you have passed, and finish up this narrative, dearest Laurence. Thank you for staying so long with me.” 

He shook his head and looked at me pleadingly. “Will you not survive and tell the world of our misfortune?” 

I could not answer him, for the end seemed to come for me as well -- I swooned -- and then awoke to the unwelcome sight of being covered in Olivier’s blood. I rose, shaken, but unharmed. 

I burned his remains with the brightest, hottest fire I could manage. 

The creatures loathed and feared fire, but they were also hopelessly attracted to it. I knew they would come. And so they did, as the night grew cold and dark around me. There were many of those creatures, so many that they became visible to my naked eye. But I did not let myself get distracted. I waited for their leader. 

And soon enough, he came. 

Captain Harvey, when I knew him, was a stout, bearish man of medium height and excitable disposition. Now, as the leader of the nightmarish things that feasted on my companions, he was not particularly changed. 

“George Torcy,” he said, my name becoming ugly and wet in his blood-soaked mouth. “I did not think _you_ would be the last.” 

I wished now that I had had a clever rejoinder to him, or something that would have helped me save face. But in truth, I had nothing to say. Instead, I thrust a flaming brand into Harvey’s face and laughed like a madman at his howls. 

That will be all for me, I think. It was clever of Harvey -- or whatever his name really was -- to lure strangers into his land for his family to feast on. It seemed that nothing could stop those, like us, from pressing farther and farther into this new world -- rich and unguarded, ready for plunder. 

I say unguarded, but really, look out from wherever you are and see -- do you see them? They look like trees, nothing more, nothing less. There is nothing to fear for you, for _you_ have stayed home, _you_ have stayed safe. 

You did not go where you were not meant to go. 

But look out again. Do you see it? That dark shape among the trees? Is it not coming for you too, in spite of your blamelessness? 

Perhaps, or perhaps not.

Only time will tell. 


End file.
